


Pour some sugar on me

by Hyorangejuice



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, band!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 19:46:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4112767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyorangejuice/pseuds/Hyorangejuice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you ask him who, or what Kim Jongdae is he would answer that dealing Kim Jongdae is like trying to light a candle during a storm: impossible. Maybe he would laugh then, thinking back to when Kim Jongdae was just an arm length from him, yet so distant, yet so unreachable.<br/>“He was the star of a show no one could take part in,” he would muse, not meaning for you to hear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pour some sugar on me

**Author's Note:**

> old stuff i sort of rewrote and fixed to make it not as embarrassing as it was. maybe.  
> the weird spacing is not... on purpose.

 

 

 

 

If you ask him who, or what Kim Jongdae is he would answer that dealing Kim Jongdae is like trying to light a candle during a storm: impossible. Maybe he would laugh then, thinking back to when Kim Jongdae was just an arm length from him, yet so distant, yet so unreachable.  
“He was the star of a show no one could take part in,” he would muse, not meaning for you to hear.

 

  
◊◊

 

  
It had all began when getting shit-face drunk was still ok, when nursing an hangover took hours, not days, when he was young enough to chase after dreams and not the other way around.  
Kim Joonmyeon remembers that time clearly, even now as he sips his coffee in a secluded corner of his favorite cafe, hiding from the sun and from curious eyes.  
Thinking about it now, now that time has healed, now that everything is just a memory of a wild youth, everything makes sense, everything Yifan always told him, everything Kyungsoo screamed and everything Jongin kept to himself. It all makes a perfectly dysfunctional frame for a perfectly dysfunctional romance.  
For a moment he feels old, so distant from who he was then.  
They first met in a shady bar, full of smoke and old songs and rum, a lot of rum. Jongdae used to sing in that forgotten hole, mostly old jazzy songs that went well with the atmosphere and the horrible carpeting. It was Kyungsoo who brought Joonmyeon there, though it would be more accurate to say that he dragged him there, saying that he had found what could get them to make it big.

“I promise he's worth it.”

Joonmyeon smiles at the memory, at how big his dreams where then, at how heavy they felt on his shoulders, at how Kyungsoo's eyes shone with enthusiasm.

“But I want you, Kyungsoo,” he wanted to say “Only you,” but that was the past, they had already decided what the best was.

He did not fall in love that night, not the night after that, not even the night in which Kim Jongdae decided that it was fine to fuck his first guitar, twice, on his room-mate bed and just leave it at that, but that night, through the smoke and he alcohol he saw something, something worth scarifying his last hope for.

He finishes his coffee quickly, as he sees the hand of the clock approach six. It's almost dark outside, and the looming shadows of late afternoon take him back to when this was the beginning of his day, when everything was upside down.  
It's winter, he tells himself, it's the cold that lingers on the tips of his fingers that has him dig deeper into the jar of memories. Winter had been the start.

 

 

 

  
The party is a success, Joonmyeon thinks standing near the door that leads to the terrace with a glass of champagne in his hands. The background music is his last produced album, he hums the tune along and thinks about all the things that he could have done better, or just differently. The young talented singer he worked with is receiving his fair share of appreciation and smiles and handshakes and pats on the back. Joonmyeon wonders if they all had that smile all those years ago.

“So, are you planning your great escape or are you going to sneak out quietly?”

“Chanyeol,” Joonmyeon turns to see his, much too tall for his liking, friend approach him with that same mischief in his eyes he was used to see under the flashing lights of a stage so many years ago.

“In the flesh,” Chanyeol opens his arms, showing off the borrowed brand suit that highlights his slender figure.

“Is that a wrinkle?” Joonmyeon asks pointing at the corner of Chanyeol's right eye.

“Ah-ah. I'm not falling for that anymore, hyung,” his ex-guitarist answers wrinkling his nose. “So, what are you doing with your free time these days? When you are not giving birth to hit songs, that is.”

“I breed mutant-penguins in my fridge,” he answers smiling around his glass at his own sense of humor.

“Well, I hope you'll remember your good friends once you take over the world with your penguin army.”

Chanyeol looks at him seriously and Joonmyeon holds out his glass for a toast. Their glasses clink and Chanyeol grin widens, Joonmyeon finds that he had missed Chanyeol more than he would have expected to after the disbandment, even if being in a band with someone like Chanyeol meant a lot of headache and lots of earth-shattering crisis to deal with.

“And you? What do you do besides being awesome on almost every billboard in South Korea?”

“I'm being awesome as an actor. In a movie. I got casted last week, we begin filming next month.”

They toast again and Joonmyeon can't help but agree with Chanyeol when the other demands that they celebrate his first real acting role that doesn't involve weird word plays with BB Creams, toothpastes and the likes, with a proper smashing hangover.

 

 

◊◊

 

 

“If we are really doing this we need a really really cool name,” Jongin says from where he ungracefully dropped himself on Minseok's living room floor.

Joonmyeon isn't sure that starting a band with these guys is actually his smartest idea and he is too lazy now to start argue that before a name they may need to actually practice together and try to write at least enough songs for a set in whatever live house is willing to hand over their stage for longer than two minutes.

“You know something like... the Kings of Rock,” Lu Han suggests, from the couch, where he is absentmindedly petting Minseok's hair.

“You are not even in the band, you cannot choose a name. And I'm not getting advices from a guy that named his cat after a mathematical sequence,” Minseok deadpans and Lu Han pulls his hair a bit.

“Fibonacci is a nice name,” Lu Han tries to argue, but no one pays him any mind.

“I'm not even sure how we are going to be a rock band without a proper singer, you know?” Joonmyeon points out.

“That's a good poin-... “

“I got it!” Chanyeol rises from the floor with his hands open in front of him and the look of someone who just got a holy revelation...

  
“So you called yourselves Back Up Plan?” Jongdae asks with his face half hidden by his beer.

Chanyeol shakes his head and Jongin pats his arm sympathetically. “The morning after no one could remember the perfect name Chanyeol came up with,” Jongin clarified. “So we called ourselves back up plan.”

“Since we couldn't have the perfect name for the awesomest band ever, we decided to set with something...”

“Totally random.” Lu Han interrupts Chanyeol's enthusiastic explanation.

“If we had listened to you we would have been called Venn or something,” Jongin smirks and raises a hand that Chanyeol promptly high-fives.

“Would you let that one go, for fuck's sake,” Lu Han spits pointing at the duo on the other side of the table.

“Anyway, there is also that we always have each other’s back, we are each other’s back up plan, always,” Chanyeol says grinning and Minseok punches him affectionately on the shoulder.

“You know if we ever get an interview we need to have an explanation that doesn't involve alcohol and... well bad life choices,” Jongin adds leaning over the table. “So, are you up for it, Jongdae?”

Joonmyeon holds his breath, he wants Jongdae to say yes because Jongdae with his full and enchanting voice is everything they have been looking for. Yes to them, yes to him.  
Then Jongdae smiles, looking right at him. “Yeah, I'm in.” he says smirking.  
Joonmyeon releases his breath, relaxing, but not for long.

 

 

  
◊◊

 

 

  
It's past four in the morning when he stumbles inside his apartment to hear his phone ringing, he's still wrestling out of his jacket when the answering machine beeps and Lu Han's voice greets him.  
He's about to pick up, but then Lu Han pauses for a moment and his voice seems to get smaller. “I'm not sure if you wanted to know this, but he's back.”

The message gets deleted instantly, and in a minute Bruce Springsteen and Dire Straits fill the silence. He loosens up his tie and drags himself on the couch where he falls unceremoniously feeling a light headache spreading from the nape of his neck, like when he still used to hold a guitar for hours that felt like minutes, when his life used to burn like it was supposed to end any minute and he feels his crushed dream heaving over his chest, looking at him with dark feline eyes.

  
He has a 'play-date' with Kyungsoo the day after. They have lunch together and usually hang out a bit after, if both of them have time, Kyungsoo calls them play-dates, to revive a long lost childhood.

“Lu Han called yesterday,” he says when they are waiting for their orders, facing each other on the booth of the little diner. “He said Jongdae is back from Europe.”

He doesn't even know how he can just throw Jongdae's name in like that, he just feels numb, and not himself, tired and a lot of other things he'd like not to think about right now.  
Kyungsoo looks like a mask, but Joonmyeon knows the signs, his jaw is thigh, and his shoulder are stiff, and his hands can't seem to stay put.

“He probably ran out of money.”

Joonmyeon would like to say he doubts that, but Kyungsoo doesn't need his opinion now, he just needs to vent, so he lets him be and goes over the menu again just to busy himself with something.

“Did he try to contact you?”

He shakes his head.

“I dare him.”

Joonmyeon laughs, because that's something he does with ease, it's his job to sell people his music with a bright smile, it's like his personal armor against things he'd like not to see, things he'd rather left unsaid, like how he knows that Kyungsoo has all the rights to hate Jongdae like he does, but Joonmyeon cannot help but resent him a bit for it because Kim Jongdae went that deep.

“Are you jealous?” Joonmyeon asks, raising an eyebrow.

Kyungsoo smacks his hand and cracks a smile.  
Joonmyeon feels guilty.

 

 

◊◊

 

 

“If you could go anywhere right now, where would you go?” Jongdae asks over a cup of coffee and a shared slice of chocolate cake.

Joonmyeon thinks for a moment and decides that one of them should be honest at least.

“In your head,” he answers.

Jongdae seems to muse over his answer a bit. “I don't think you'd like it there.”

“I've never seen it, how can you say I won't like it?”

For a moment Joonmyeon thinks that maybe he has crossed a thin line he didn't know was there, because Jongdae looks almost hurt, or confused, or a mix of both, but it could be another lie, a way to pull him closer, to keep him near enough to hurt, or maybe he is paranoid and what he saw for a split of a second was actually Jongdae.

“I know because I'm there all the time and I don't like it,” Jongdae says quietly, looking right at Joonmyeon with that unreadable look Joonmyeon doesn't like, and then leaves.

Joonmyeon hears the bell over the door chime and looks at Jongdae's half-finished coffee.  
He isn't supposed to feel his stomach twist at the idea of Jongdae leaving, he shouldn't feel anything because he knows better than anyone that this could be the last time he has seen Jongdae.  
The waitress comes asking if he wants a refill. Her face is round and her cheeks are a little chubby, she's pretty, the kind of pretty that had him feel fuzzy and warm inside just two weeks ago, now he just smiles out of politeness and thinks about sharp jaws and high cheekbones.  
Kim Jongdae is all about pointy corners and sharp edges, holding him close is deathly, but Joonmyeon has always been a little on the dramatic hero's side so he leaves a couple bills on the table and storms out to run after a ghost he was sure he saw behind dark rimmed eyes and lots and lots of self-imposed loneliness.

He takes to the left, Jongdae always goes left when he doesn't know where he is, and Jongdae doesn't know this part of the city that well, Joonmyeon runs and tries not to think about what he will say once he catches up with Jongdae, Luhan would know what to say, he thinks, Kyungsoo would know what to do, he knows nothing right now, or better knows nothing when it comes to Kim Jongdae and his sharp eyes.  
When he feels his throat hurt and every breath he takes it's like a blade inside his lungs he stops running.  
He calls Kyungsoo, because that's what life taught him to do when he is lost, he goes back home.  
Kyungsoo had been his limit, Kyungsoo had fished him out of the fangs of whatever monster was about to swallow him and gave him something else to think about something else to keep him away from the things that hid under his bed.

“I think I messed up,” he says trying to catch his breath with his back pressed on the brick wall of a dark alley.

“I don't think there is anything left to mess up.” And he is right, Jongdae is a tangled mess and Joonmyeon can't see the end of it.

He takes a breath, the cold air is sharp down his throat.

 

  
◊◊

 

 

Yifan is the first to spot Jongdae, and Joonmyeon is not sure why they all feel the urge to have him informed about Jongdae's whereabouts whenever they get the chance, it is starting to become annoying.

“I saw him at this bar the other night, you know the one in Hongdae where we went to celebrate Lu Han's first real job?”

Joonmyeon nods, he remembers, though he'd rather not. It's one of those memories that rest in that blur moment of his life in which he wasn't sure if he wanted to move on from Jongdae or let the past swallow him, and he'd rather trash that period altogether. It's too humiliating to think about how pitiful and sad he was back then.

“Lu Han told me he came back from Europe last week,” he says, just to fill the silence, though Yifan probably already knows.

Yifan nurses his coffee, leaving Joonmyeon room to think, and Joonmyeon hates himself for what he is about to ask, because he shouldn't give a flying fuck about Jongdae at this point.

“Did he look... you know, ok?”

Yifan takes a breath, and looks at him like he could read all the other questions Joonmyeon doesn't dare to ask.

“He seemed fine, I think he saw me, but he didn't come to say hi and I didn't want to embarrass anyone.”

Joonmyeon nods and tries to focus on the cup between his hands. “It's nice to know,” he mutters like an afterthought while his mind replays a song he used to sing on sleepless nights to eager ears and hands that traveled across his body and hungry lips that send him out of tune. Love bites, love bleeds It's bringin' me to my knees.  
Once Jongin told him that choosing to love only one person is like deciding to eat only one kind of candy for his whole life. Back then Joonmyeon had just laughed, too high to even find something stupid to retort, maybe something about candy flavors and boring people, now though, Joonmeyon knows how it feels to yearn for just one flavor, never having enough and can't even laugh at himself.  
Yifan is about to say something when a petit girl in a pale blue dress approaches their table. She wears an insecure smile on her heart shaped lips and clutches a small notepad between her hands and Joonmyeon has already his commercial smile on.

“I'm sorry to intrude,” she says, her eyes dart back for a second to her friends sitting a couple of tables away. “Are you Suho, from Back up plan?”

That name sounds almost foreign six year after their last live, but he nods and she's beaming at him, holding out the notebook with a little blush tainting his cheeks. “Could you sign this for me please?”

“Sure, to whom?”

“Min Ah, my name is Min Ah,” she says, almost stuttering. “I was at your last concert, I cried a lot when you announced it was the last.”

“Thank you, it's nice to know that people still remember us.”

“You were... Still are one of my favorite bands,” she says taking back the notebook and smiling upon seeing the little heart Joonmyeon added to his well-practiced autograph. She thanks him again before going back to her table to show her prize to her friends.  
He wonders how people used to see them, did they see how tired they were? Did they notice how stupidly happy they looked screaming on the top of their lungs huddled over one mic?  
Louder. Louder. Louder.  
He had their first unofficial cover album framed when they hit it big with their first major deal. It is a tacky, sparkly thing Chanyeol had done with his old printer, a lot of glitter and some stickers, and that still hangs in Joonmyeon’s home studio.   
The background picture is one they took he doesn't even know when anymore, they are all smiling sitting on the edge of the stage, like birds on a wire. Jongdae is sitting beside him, his arm looped around Joonmyeon's neck and a genuine smile on his lips. Every time he looks at that picture, he wonders why he only remembers Jongdae smiling like a broken doll, why he only remembers the part that hurt him and cannot remember that smile.  
When Jongdae had left with a goddamn post-it stuck on Joonmyeon’s bathroom mirror as his only excuse for a goodbye Joonmyeon had felt like drowning, for days air seemed to get struck in his throat. He had to get rid of things, first to go where Jongdae's CDs, then clothes, then whatever he could lay his hands on that screamed Jongdae.  
Probably he dumped that smile in one of those trash bags without meaning to.  
Yifan looks at him as if he is about to have a panic attack.

“Don't think too much, you probably won't even have the chance to run into each other.” Yifan says and Joonmyeon smiles, given his luck it's a miracle they didn't run into each other already.

“I think it would help if you all didn't feel the urge to inform me about his every move like some sort of half-assed intelligence team,” he says and his tone is a bitter echo of how playful the remark sounded in his head. Yifan looks mildly surprised and Joonmyeon doesn’t even try to apologize because he means every word.  
He feels like he is twenty and young and sad and too old altogether.  
He wants to see Jongdae and yet he doesn't.  
He feels his head spin.  
He feels like puking.  
He wants the world to shut the fuck up.

“I think I should go home, I'm not feeling that good,” he says fishing his wallet out of his pocket.

Yifan stops him though. “It's on me, I invited you out.”

He smiles before making his way outside and turning left when he remembers that he came with Yifan’s car and has no idea how to get home from here.

 

  
◊◊

 

  
Jongdae is sitting on the edge of the stage, a beer in his left hand, he looks tired, but satisfied, and his skin still glows with perspiration under the low lights of the stage. He is spacing out with a weird smile on his face and Joonmyeon thinks that he would like to eat that smile with a kiss.  
Two years ago if someone told him that he would hire a dysfunctional teen, drunk on most nights that could chain-smoke him out, to join his band he would have laughed right at the man's face. He wasn't suicidal. Yet there stood the proof that what keeps him awake at night it's not only that venti americano he bought on the way home.  
He watches Jongdae laugh at something Chanyeol said and feels something move in his stomach, something that would prompt him to make his way over to Jongdae, slung an arm around his shoulders and say something stupid like I love you. Yes, that would totally be him.  
It's when Jongdae looks up and his eyes search the room that Joonmyeon feels his mouth itch for a cigarette and heads for the back door fishing his abused pack from the back of his worn out jeans. The night air is chill on his hot skin and he sags in his shoulders trying to keep himself warm.  
He recalls that the first time he had thought about being a rock star, barely tall enough to reach the kitchen table without getting on the tips of his feet, he thought how cool it was to stand there with all those people wanting you, paying attention to you. Being in a rock band, he thinks now while taking the first drag, is hard work.  
He touches his sore neck and feels the tense muscles, he should probably take better care of himself, before his neck gets stuck and the old man jokes triple.  
Then the door opens and Jongdae comes out, smiling sheepishly.

“Found you,” he says looking satisfied.

Joonmyeon swallows as Jongdae steps closer and closer and too close, fisting his hand on the front of Joonmyeon shirt. He stops breathing when Jongdae nuzzles in the hollow of his neck, feeling his hot breath ghosting over his skin before a promising kiss is placed over his pulsating carotids.

“You smell nice” Jongdae whispers in his ear placing another kiss on the sensitive skin right behind it.

Joonmyeon should say no, he has learnt the hard way how difficult it is to keep up a relationship inside the band without screwing everything up, and he is not about to throw away all he has archived now, not now. Then again he is not sure that getting off in a dirty bathroom stall and the occasional dark corner can be classified as a relationship.  
Jongdae kisses like he sings, with hunger and something akin to loneliness, he takes and takes and takes and Joonmyeon can just let himself be pulled into this crazy rhythm. He drops his cigarette and his hands are on Jongdae's hips shifting under his thin tank top, and Jongade arches into him, his hands grip Joonmyeon shoulder enough to hurt.  
Jongdae is always eager to touch, to feel, to kiss, Joonmyeon isn't sure if Jongdae is starving for affection or just human warmth, and is not even sure if there is a difference.  
Someone, though, is standing on the door, Joonmyeon recognizes Kyungsoo almost instantly, and quickly pushes Jongdae away. Kyungsoo looks shocked and Jongdae has this weird smile on his face, for a split of a second Joonmyeon thinks that he has planned this.

“I think I should just go. I'll call you, Joonmyeon,” and with that Kyungsoo is gone, and Joonmyeon feels too stupid to get back inside, chase after him and explain what it is that Kyungsoo just witnessed.  
So, when Jongdae entwines their fingers and starts dragging him away, he just follows his lead.

 

 

 

  
◊◊

 

 

 

 

Minseok calls him after a week and a half. He is in Japan and is struggling with the language barrier.

“I'm resorting to my English, would you believe that? Anyway, I'm doing the interview tomorrow, fucking finally. I think I should be back by Tuesday, are you up for a pizza?”

Pizza means a huge pizza, with whatever they think can go together without making them sick on top, eaten on Minseok's carpet. Not couch, “'cuz you pay the dry cleaner for that thing,” Minseok always reminds everyone. It is childish and very unhealthy, but neither have been worried about dieting and the concept of ‘age appropriate’ in a long time.

“So, how are things?” Minseok asks setting down his second beer.

“Good, I'm working on a new album for a solo singer, she's nice, works hard.”

Minseok sighs. “I spoke with Jongdae he came to my office with a coffee and I wanted to punch him so hard.”

“Then I take it he's still the same.”

Minseok looks at him like he might grow a pair of horns at any moment.

“What?”

“He didn't ask about you.”

Well, that hurt more than he expected.

 

 

 

 

◊◊

 

 

 

 

 

It is 5 AM and he is sitting at his kitchen table with a pen and a little notebook he dug out somewhere in the mess that rules the apartment. He stares at the blank page and starts to think about all the things he knows about Kim Jongdae. He feels that if doesn't try to write them all down he'll go crazy.  
He cannot understand how he came to the point where he doesn't even know if the man he sees on stage, the man that occasionally shares his bed, the man that smiles like a Cherise cat it's real or he is living in a nightmare and he is not sure how to wake up.  
It all feels too surreal, all it's too much, he just wanted to make a name for the band, for himself, but mostly for the band and be famous and sell their music and live chasing the day, he didn't sign up for sleepless nights spent chain-smoking thinking about a man he sees on stage, a man that occasionally shares his bed, a man that smiles like a Cherise cat.  
He lights another cigarette for good measure and starts writing.  
First of all he writes Kim Jongdae on the top center of the page.  
Born... he doesn't know when Jongdae was born.

“You know how many fake birthdays I can have if people don't know when I'm actually born?”

Then he remembers that he cannot trust what Jongdae says and decides to write what he knows because he has seen it and not because he has heard it.  
Under Jongdae's name he writes liar.  
Jongdae likes to walk around the apartment with his ear-buds blasting pop songs and mouthing the wrong words along. He does that on lazy Sundays and then maybe he starts to actually sing and jerks Joonmyeon off by the window where they might be seen.  
Adds exhibitionist.  
And pervert, but then scratches that because he actually lets him so he's as guilty and cannot possibly judge him.  
Joonmyeon takes another drag and lets the smoke out with a defeated sigh.  
He has a scar under his right collarbone, surely not because aliens abducted him. Joonmyeon had always made sure to kiss and suck and lick that scar thoroughly whenever they had sex or simply made out in a dark corner. Really, it wasn't that hard to reach with the revealing outfits Jongdae liked to wear on stage.  
When they first met Jongdae told him that he had pretty hands, Kyungsoo, later, would have teased him about it.

“I almost thought he was going to ask for sexual favors to join”

Joonmyeon had snorted at that swatting Kyungsoo playfully on the shoulder.

“Who told you I would have refused?” he had teased him and enjoyed Kyungsoo full laughter.

He hadn't refused in fact, he'd been all too willing and too drunk to say no to Jongdae wondering hands and lustful eyes. No wasn't an option, now was, now and please don't stop and please more, were all good, on the contrary.

“I like your hands,” Jongdae had whispered while they were zipping up their pants.

In the end he knows nothing relevant about Jongdae and knows that asking won't get him anywhere, Jongdae will lie, it's written loud and clear on this page. Jongdae is a liar, a good one, he just needed to remind himself of that.  
When he goes back to his room, Jongdae has scooted on his side and has taken up all the blankets. Joonmyeon doesn't like to watch people sleep, and Jongdae it's no exception, so he turns the lights off and crushes on the bed face first trying not to think about lips he'd rather kiss than watch move to form words he won't like and eyes that seem to see more than he wants to let them.  
He feels Jongdae shuffle in the dark and curl up on his side, resting his head on his shoulder blade as if he belongs there.  
And maybe he does.  
And that's what troubles Joonmyeon the most.

 

  
◊◊

 

 

The problem is, Joonmyeon is almost sure, that if he were ran into Jongdae, say now, he would probably smile and offer him coffee, asking polite questions to catch up with what he missed in this four years, losing himself to Jongdae's smile again.   
Then he would remind himself that he is supposed to be mad, to scream at Jongdae, because they should have been each other’s back up plan when everything else failed, but when everything else had failed Jongdae just left.

 

  
◊◊

 

  
“You cannot be in a rock band forever,” his father tells him over the phone when he calls to announce the disbandment.  
He says he knew, and that yes, he would be home for his mother's birthday.  
It's a regular Tuesday afternoon when he hangs up and hears Jongdae's light steps heading to the bathroom and thinks that at least it should rain because it's not fair that he is the only one that has to deal with shit today.  
They had decided not to tell anyone, to keep it to themselves, to let fans enjoy their shows as if they were going to last forever, hiding tears behind brighter smiles. At the end of their last concert they had stood together, facing the audience and explained how their journey had been longer than they expected, all thanks to their dedicated fans, they thanked each and every one of them and said their goodbyes.  
The silence had been deafening, when it was clear that it wasn't a joke and that it was really the end. Tears were shed as they stood there burning in their hearts the sound of their last applause.  
He lights himself a cigarette.  
When Jongdae shows up in the living room with his pajama hanging low on his hips and his worst bed hair, Joonmyeon thinks that if all he gets in the end is this man he can deal with losing all the rest and it's foolish because Back Up Plan had been his dream for so long, it was like a child he had brought up himself, while he spent the past years telling himself that Jongdae is not for him to keep.

“Want to go out to eat?” he asks and Jongdae nods.

“Clothes,” Jongdae mumbles half asleep.

Jongdae is in his briefs when Joonmyeon joins him in the bedroom, he is roaming through Joonmyeon's closet looking for a clean t-shirt.

“In a mood for something specific?” he asks plopping himself on the bed.

“Cake, chocolate cake,” Jongdae answers smoothing a green t-shirt with a weird design Joonmyeon doesn't remember owning.

“Jongdae?” he says laying his back on the bed with his eyes closed. “I think I love you.”

He is a coward, he keeps his eyes shut, leaving the words hang in the silence. The mattress shifts under Jongdae's weight and Jongdae's body pressing against his own.  
Jongdae pecks his neck, “I know,” he hears him whisper before the weight is gone and he hears the water run in the bathroom.

It could have been a lot worst.

They end up getting cake in a cafè Lu Han showed Joonmyeon once, something American style. The place is quiet and the cake is good.

“If you could go anywhere, right now, where would you go?” Jongdae asks out of the blue.

 

 

◊◊

 

 

Kyungsoo wakes him at 9 AM on a Thursday when Joonmyeon had planned on sleeping in, tempting him with a coffee and a long, wet, passionate kiss in the hallway, before telling him that they are going bed hunting.  
Joonmyeon still feels sleep pressing his eyelids closed, though the huge Americano he holds in his hands helps him focus on Kyungsoo's voice rather than on his urge to go back to bed.

“You need a new bed?” he asks slumping on his sofa and cursing under his breath when he almost drops his coffee in the process.

“No, you do,” Kyungsoo answers from the kitchen where he is fixing himself a tea.

“I have a bed,” Joonmyeon deadpans, finding it difficult for his tongue to articulate longer and much clearer sentences and, most of all, questions.

“Well we're a buying a new one because that one is old and it'll give you backache.”

When he moved from his old apartment Joonmyeon had tried his best to save all the furniture he could, mostly because he couldn't think of moving that far away from what he had been calling home for so long and not bring at least a little piece of it with him.  
He had saved a little drawer, the one where he used to keep mismatched socks and bills, that now sits faithfully in his room. There is also his puff sofa he won when they went to that bingo hall out of boredom and Jongin was almost adopted by half of the elders that crowded the room, and where he lands when he sock races through the house. And the library, where once Chanyeol stuck his goddam gum and no product know to men could get if off, and where Jongin in a drunken stupor drew a sticky man representing each of them. He drew deer horns for Lu Han, huge eyes for Kyungsoo, weird looking eyebrows for Yifan, then there was Chanyeol, with spiky hair, mismatched eyes and with only one arm. When pressed for an explanation from a very interested – and camera armed – Minseok, Jongin had explained, slurring his 's' and stopping a few times to giggle at his hands, that Chanyeol's arm was hidden behind his back because he was holding a fairy in his hand.

“Why would Chanyeol hold a fairy in his hand?” Minseok asked keeping his camera on Jongin's face.

“Because he smiles too much, and since he doesn't do drugs or Joonmyeon-hyung would beat the shit out of him, or well would have Yifan beat the living shit out of him, the only option left is that he sprays himself every morning with dust fairy, a lot of dust fairy”

And then there is his bed. It's nothing special, no headboard, store-in, made in black-painted wood, it was a present he bought himself with the first check he got with their first indie album. He likes his bed, he doesn't need a new one. He wants to keep it with all the memories he has stored under the mattress, between the creases of the sheets.

“I like my bed,” he mumbles when Kyungsoo joins him on the couch, snuggling into his side. “I don't think I need to buy a new one.”

Kyungsoo frowns sipping his hot tea and licks his plush lips.

He closes his eyes and circles Kyungsoo's shoulders with his arm feeling Kyungsoo nuzzle into his neck, his hot breath ghosting over his collarbones. Joonmyeon plants a kiss on his head and takes a deep breath.

“Soo-yah, what's wrong?”

Kyungsoo stiffens a bit and Joonmyeon takes the mug from his hands and places it on the floor along with his own, and wraps both his arms around Kyungsoo's middle and dragging him closer.

“How about we go find a bed tomorrow and now I go out get some delicious pastries from the cake shop just around the corner and we spend some quality time together?” he asks, rubbing soothing circles on Kyungsoo's back and hopefully pushing the whole bed thing off until Kyungsoo will forget about it.

Kyungsoo hums and Joonmyeon steals a kiss before standing to get dressed. He doesn't plan to stay out for long so he puts on sweatpants and wears a sweater over his pajama shirt and hides his face in a huge scarf.  
On the elevator he thinks about Kyungsoo on his sofa and the confused look he had in his eyes.  
He has been friend with Kyungsoo for as long as he can remember, he was there when mattered and Joonmyeon knows that, if Kyungsoo hadn’t been there things would have been a lot uglier too many times. Kyungsoo has always been his safe shore, where he brought his tired mind to rest. He loves Kyungsoo, he had always loved Kyungsoo, as a friend, as a brother, as a lover, but sometimes he feels like something is lacking. Like when he wakes in the middle of the night and plays his piano until his fingers ache just to fill the silence and the huge burning hole that he feels in the middle of his chest and menaces to swallow him. Not even Kyungsoo has been able to mend that.  
Joonmyeon feels guilty, because he knows he couldn't let go even if Kyungsoo asked him directly.

 

 

  
The shop is full of chatter when he enters, he gets in line and quietly waits for his turn trying to peek into the display cabinet to see what the shop has to offer today, he smiles seeing the little Sacher Kyungsoo likes.

 

 

 

One week later he's supposed to meet Kyungsoo as soon as he gets off from work. It's barely midday and he had just survived a stressing morning meeting with his boss that had him seriously thinking about quitting everything and fly off to one of those wonderful beaches with white sand and palms leaning over the water. Kyungsoo would like that too.  
On the way he stops to get a latte and something sweet for Kyungsoo, but he's struck on his track when, upon entering the shop, he spots a familiar head of black hair looking up at the menu over the register.  
He should have expected it, and should just walk back out and run straight to Kyungsoo office, kiss Kyungsoo and maybe tell him he's sorry because his heart is pounding in his chest as if he were twenty again and didn't get his heart broken in a million pieces, but he doesn't. Instead he takes a few step closer, getting in line and waiting to see if that is really Jongdae or it's just another dream.  
Jongdae orders a caramel mocha with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles, Joonmyeon remembers when he used to drink only bitter americanos propped on his kitchen counter while he attempted to cook.  
Usually it was late afternoon and they would mindlessly talk about things sometimes they would sing along with whatever was on the radio, and suddenly he remembers Jongdae smiling singing 'I love rock'n'roll' with a spoon and so much passion it would have put Joan Jett to shame.  
He sees it as if it was right before his eyes the bright grin on Jongdae's face when he joined in for the chorus, brandishing a fork.  
That's foolish how he can't even breathe when Jongdae turns around and their eyes meet, but maybe he's not the only one. Jongdae seems as... shocked as he is.

Jongdae smiles, his lips rising just a bit at the corners.

Then the waitress calls for Jongdae's attention and he quickly pays before making his way towards Joonmyeon. He feels his fingers itch to touch Jongdae, to feel his skin under his fingertips, trace the little wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. It's a bit like when he used to smoke and could feel the need at the tips of his fingers, strong and unnerving, to hold a stick between his fingers and drag a long relaxing breath of smoke.  
Jongdae and cigarettes were both as deadly back then, killing him from the inside.

“Hi, hyung,” he says and Joonmyeon takes a breath.

“Hi,” he says back.

They stand there awkwardly, Joonmyeon feels like he is falling head first into a cliff so deep and dark he thinks he'll never stop falling. It's frightening, but thrilling at the same time, just like it was those many years ago.

“Lu Han told me you were back,” he says, there isn't really much he can say at the moment so he goes for something easy and not... compromising.

“Two weeks ago, I thought I would settle a bit before getting back in touch with everyone.”

Joonmyeon nods and takes a step further towards the register, it's almost his turn and he wants to find something to make Jongdae stay, but at the same time he is afraid he might just stare at him without saying anything for the whole time.  
He needs time, but that doesn't stop him from blurting, “If you have time we could sit, you know?”

Jongdae smiles and shakes his head. “Maybe next time,” he says grinning at the inside joke and Joonmyeon takes a deep breath and feels a bit of the anxiousness melt away as his lips quirk a smile. “I have a job interview in half an hour.”

“Oh, good luck then.”

“Thank you,” Jongdae smiles a small smile and waves taking a few steps towards the door. “Bye, Joonmyeon,” he says looking back for a second before disappearing in the crowd as soon as the door closes.

“Good morning sir, what can I get you?” the voice of the little boy behind the counter gets him out of his reverie.

 

  
◊◊

 

  
“Good evening sir, what can I get you?” Joonmyeon goes over the menu and orders coffee trying to smile, but even that makes his head hurt.  
Behind his dark shades he watches as Jongin charms the blonde waitress with a grin and a light brush of fingers when he gives back his menu.

“You are the worst,” Joonmyeon shrugs.

“No,” Jongin replies with a sly grin “I think it's called 'attention-whoring', at least so says Minseok-hyung.”

Joonmyeon grins back and lets his glasses slide on the bridge of his nose only to take them off a moment before they slip. The light is not too bright inside, he thinks, though his eyes squint nonetheless before adjusting, earning him a look from Jongin. Upon being caught mentally making fun of his hyung Jongin smiles brightly like the naughty child he is and Joonmyeon smiles despite himself. Jongin has always been his favorite dongsaeng, but don't tell that to Chanyeol.

“Should we order for Kyungsoo-hyung too?”

Jongin though had always adored Kyungsoo. Joonmyeon shakes his head, “He said he'd be here soon.”

Jongin nods and starts playing with his napkin, making little balls that Joonmyeon already sees struck in his hair. Jongin is young, when they met he was the scrawny kid with bruised knees that lived next-door. Joonmyeon still likes to bring that up when they are all together just for the fun of seeing Jongin blush furiously trying to save what little is left of his pride.  
He knows that when he does that Jongin's eyes always flee to Kyungsoo, to gauge his reaction, and when Kyungsoo smiles at him his face gets all the shades of red.  
Jongin is in love with Kyungsoo. It's that kind of love that has him absentmindedly draw hearts on the corners of his music sheets, that has him sigh and blush and that makes his stomach feel always full and his mind light. Joonmyeon finds Jongin's naiveté endearing, but he's not sure he'll want to witness when all that shatters and Jongin will have his heart broken for the first time.

“Hyung, are you listening?” Jongin is waving a hand in front of his face biting on his lower lip.

“Yes... Actually no, what were you saying?”

“I said that for our next set we should add that new song Minseok-hyung and Chanyeol-hyung finished yesterday.”

“We didn't have enough time to rehearse that.”

Jongin pouts, and Joonmyeon reaches over to ruffle their youngest hair, “You'll have your solo next time Jongin-ah.”

At that Jongin swats his hand away, but his fury is short lived because Kyungsoo is approaching their table and Jongin can't stay mad when Kyungsoo is around it takes too much energy he could invest on making Kyungsoo simile and laugh and blush.  
Kyungsoo though looks worried as he seats next to Joonmyeon. His brows are furrowed and he munches on hi bottom lip before he looks up at Joonmyeon.

“I got in,” he says.

“In as you got that internship in that publishing company?” Jongin asks.

Kyungsoo nods. “I start tomorrow.”

Joonmyeon gapes before he hugs Kyungsoo as tightly as he can and wants to say how happy he is for him and how they need to celebrate and...

“You'll not sing for us anymore?” Jongin says blinking at Kyungsoo and suddenly Joonmyeon is at loss of words for a totally different reason. He thinks about how they used to walk barefooted on the grass of Kyungsoo's old house during the night, how Kyungsoo's voice would melt into the hot summer air. How bad he wanted to eat all those notes that came out of those pretty lips, because they seemed to carry Kyungsoo's whole being and he wanted him all for himself. Thinks about the first time they jammed together, cramped in Chanyeol's garage. He thinks about how Kyungsoo eyes shone bright just two days ago on their last stage together when he called Joonmyeon upfront to share the mic for the chorus and how he wanted to kiss him right there for everyone to see.  
He thinks about how when he wants Kyungsoo closer and closer and closer, Kyungsoo seems just to get further away right before his eyes.

“I won't really have time... the first months are crucial, I need this job... I want this job,” he fidgets, looking between the two of them like he's going to get executed on the spot.

Joonmyeon, though, knows how much Kyungsoo wants this, how much Kyungsoo loves books, he knows because he loves music just as much, and Kyungsoo has always been there for him, to push him forward and now it's his time to do the same, to push Kyungsoo towards his dream.

“Kyungsoo-yah, thank you for being with us until now,” he says throwing a reassuring arm around Kyungsoo's shoulders. “Thank you for supporting our dream until now,” he adds looking at Jongin that seems to get the cue.

“Now we will support yours.”

Kyungsoo slumps into Joonmyeon's side and takes a deep relieved breath.

“I thought you'd get mad.”

“We cannot force you, if we really want to make it big we'll have to work hard and we need people that want it as much or it will be pointless, so don't worry, ok?”

Kyungsoo nods and Jongin smiles. Joonmyeon sees sadness dance in Jongin's eyes, but his smile is too blinding for Kyungsoo to see it too.

 

  
◊◊

 

  
One week later, after their second replacement – a pretty girl that could reach the highest notes – tried to feel Chanyeol up in the men's bathroom, and their third got too wasted too early and Joonmyeon had to step in to sing, Kyungsoo shows up at Joonmyeon's second part-time job five minutes before his shift ends with a satisfied grin on his face.

“I found him,” he says drumming his fingers over the counter of the music store.

“You found whom?” Joonmyeon asks trying to see if the store-manager will blast out of his office again screaming bloody murder because he is slacking off during work hours. Joonmyeon seriously thinks the man will be sent in a mental institution one day, but prays that when that happens he'll have another job already.

“I found your lead singer,” Kyungsoo says proudly, and Joonmyeon turns at that.

“Kyungsoo I don-...”

“Don't worry, just leave it to me. I'll go sneak around, trying not to have an allergic reaction to the 80s dust that hides between those old LPs...”

“Hey! I clean this goddam hole, ok?” Joonmyeon retorts, though gets ignored.

“...and when you are done you'll entrust yourself to me because I'll bring you to the key of your success.”

Joonmyeon shakes his head and shoos Kyungsoo away with a smile.

 

  
◊◊

 

  
Joonmyeon is sitting on the sofa in the recording studio. It's almost three in the morning and he just finished recording another demo. Baekhyun, the guy that usually lends him his voice, left sometime around midnight, but Joonmyeon had to fix what needed to be fixed and didn't really keep track of time. He feels his head drop, he cannot possibly drive himself home.  
Drunk from sleep he shifts through his phone contact to look for the taxi company and his fingers linger a moment too long on a contact he saved as a simple, lonesome dot.  
He doesn't think too much and presses 'call'. He's just curious. It's late in the night and he is calling a number that, for all he knows, was deleted years ago so he doesn't really expect someone to pick up, but the line actually connects and after a few rings a sleep filled voice answers.

“'llo?”

Suddenly he is more awake than ever. He recognizes that voice, is the voice that used to whisper in his year in those lazy mornings when they didn't feel like getting up and be normal functioning human beings.

“Jongdae?”

 

 

 

Joonmyeon feels stupid, incredibly stupid and embarrassed, while he sits alone in a corner of the coffee shop waiting for Jongdae to arrive. He probably should have just hung up after Jongdae answered, he already had confirmed that Jongdae still had the same number, that he was actually asleep at three in the morning and that his rough from sleep voice still made him feel like a fifteen year old with a crush.  
Yet he had stuttered his name before collecting himself. He had heard the sound of sheets moving, and Jongdae yawned in the receiver before asking why in the world would he call at such ungodly hour?

“I wanted to ask if you had time for coffee, maybe tomorrow.”

He could see Jongdae's lips curve upwards, and felt his stomach fall. Was he really doing this?

“You know, if you call this late in the night I might think you want to catch me in a moment of weakness, to make sure I'll say yes.” he had smiled then and felt a familiar feeling wash over his tired limbs. “But you are lucky, because I have time tomorrow, so text me when and where, maybe when I'm awake enough to actually remember my own name, ok?”

He waited then, trying to find something else to say. “You didn't change your number,” he said in the end, but they both knew what he is asking.

“Too much trouble,” Jongdae had mumbled, and Joonmyeon could hear him shift under the covers, probably laying back. “Goodnight Joonmyeon,” he had whispered then.

“Goodnight Jongdae.”

When the line had gone dead Joonmyeon was torn between throwing his phone on the other side of the room and bang his head on the wall trying to smack some sense into it.

When Jongdae does get there, though Joonmyeon has sweaty palms and he's afraid his voice might betray how hard his heart is pounding, so he smiles, waving to Jongdae that smiles right back at him, making his way over a bit too quickly for Joonmyeon's liking.

“Did you wait long?” Jongdae asks sliding in his seat. “You know some crazy old man woke me up in the middle of the night and I had trouble going back to sleep, so I didn't really hear the alarm,” he adds with a playful grin.

Joonmyeon plants his feet on the wooden floor of the coffee shop to prevent himself from doing something stupid like run out and never look back.

They talk about now, and about tomorrow, both of them trying to get comfortable again with the others' presence. As Jongdae tells him about the woman sitting next to him on the plane from Paris and how her perfume made him dizzy the whole ride, Joonmyeon smiles and shares his own flight experience.  
Four years are a long time, he thinks as he laughs at a lame joke, and Jongdae grins, because he knows it wasn't that funny. If he were the same person he wouldn't be able to talk with Jongdae like this, to share pieces of his life with Jongdae again, he would be afraid he would be angry, he would be a lot of things he is not.  
He expected to be a lot of things, but he was wrong. He is not afraid, he is not angry, and maybe is that that scares him the most. They are not young and fearless anymore, but courage is alla about defeating your fears, and so he dares to ask.

“So, Europe?”

“Yeah, I came back two weeks ago, from Italy,” Jongdae's smile seems to falter a bit.

Joonmyeon nods and holds onto his cup as if his life depended on it, trying to steady his stomach that is churning painfully making him feel like he is about to puke last week's Thai take-out.

“Minseok told me you went to see him.”

Jongdae looks at him weirdly and seems to think about what to say, in the end he nods. “After I got my shit together I thought I should get back in touch with everyone.”

Joonmyeon would ask why not with me first? But he fears he already knows the answer.

“He told me you are a very successful producer now,” Jongdae says grinning, and it's contagious.

“I can't deny that, I'm practically a hit-factory” he answers with a cocky grin and Jongdae's eyebrows shoot up.

“Did you spend too much time with Chanyeol? I think his ego rubbed off on you.”

Joonmyeon rolls his eyes and takes a sip of coffee. He feels his shoulders relax, but his breath still catches in his throat while he watches Jongdae smile around his cup. It's been so long and yet it feels like yesterday when they used to walk through the night counting shooting stars while sharing a cigarette, feeling their skin tingle whenever their finger brushed. He feels like all these years he has still been keeping count, though shooting stars had long stopped falling.

“And you? What have you been up to?”

Jongdae lets his eyes wander outside with a longing smile moving his lips, he takes a deep breath and keeps looking out while he speaks.

“At first I did whatever job came my way, waiter in London, delivery boy in Marseille, I wanted to travel and did just that. Then I got into a modeling agency and did some photoshoots. They said I had good features, but I was too short to walk on the runaway,” he shrugs then and, with a tired smile looks at Joonmyeon. “It was all fine and dandy until they pushed onto me a box of laxatives and told me to lose I don't remember how many pounds for their winter concept.”

Joonmyeon doesn't pry, the look on Jongdae's face says enough, and from then they shift into a comfortable conversation. Music had always been something they had in common and Jongdae is still sharp tongue and bright eyes that morph into crescents every time his smile widens. Joonmyeon is screaming inside because he should not... not feel this comfortable and warm.  
Then his phone rings. It's Kyungsoo asking him to bring wine when he comes over because he forgot when he went for groceries. At the end of the message there is a smile. Joonmyeon knows he isn't doing anything wrong, that he isn't betraying Kyungsoo if he has coffee with another man, he does that all the time. The fact that the man he's having coffee with had him brokenhearted and broken in general and that Kyungsoo hates him, though, makes Joonmyeon feel like he actually is.

“I think I should go” he says shoving his phone back into his pocket after he typed back few words and a winking smile.

Jongdae seems to catch the shift in his mood. “I have some errands to run anyway” he says passing his cup from one hand to the other.

Joonmyeon finds himself fighting down the feeling that this could be the last time they see each other, because that has become some sort of habit he still has to grow out of.

“We should meet again... if you want,” Jongdae asks, looking at him warily.

Joonmyeon knows what's between the lines and nods. “We should,” he says.

 

 

  
Except they don't.

 

 

 

  
◊◊

 

  
After the disbandment Joonmyeon made a habit out of checking on Jongin at least once a week. Jongin once told him he heard more from him than from his own mother.  
Sometimes he would have Jongin play the guitar in his songs. Jongin might still be a brat with metaphorically scraped knees, but knows how to work with his fingers on his six strings and Joonmyeon likes the sounds Jongin is able to produce, they are warm and, though sometimes imprecise, they are soothing. And when Jongin's, or better Kai's, name appears on the credits the song is sure to sell at least 10,000 copies on iTunes, just because of that.  
Once in a while after the recording they would go out for drinks, just the two of them and Joonmyeon likes to talk about the past over a glass of tequila or whatever bright colored drink Jongin ordered for them.   
Neither of them after the breakup had the guts to completely leave music aside, and begin to live that kind of life their parents wanted for them. Jongin, though, was the only one of them that kept doing the exact same thing: play. Over the years he had picked up a bit of everything, learnt the basic notion of drums and bass and some percussion too. He took piano, right after the disbandment.  
He did some collaboration, released an instrumental album that sold all right and tried his best to keep doing what he had been doing for his whole life since he was able to decide for himself: whatever the hell he wanted.  
Joonmyeon envies how Jongin passion seems unlimited and always burning, making his eyes shine like the ones of someone that life hasn't brought down yet, like he is invincible.  
There was once, both of them sprawled on the carpeted floor of the recording booth with only the light coming from the other side of the glass to illuminate them. For the first time had seen Jongin look at him with something that resembled anger too much for comfort.

“Hyung, do you think I'm lacking somewhere?” Jongin speech was slurred from tiredness, and Joonmyeon wondered how much of it actually came from their almost fifteen hour work in the recording studio.

“I think you are fine, Jongin, there is nothing amiss” Joonmyeon is not sure what all this is about.

“It's not enough, though. As hard as I try is never enough”

Joonmyeon sighs. Jongin has always been too hard on himself, too fixated on catching up with everyone when he probably was always a step ahead of all of them.

 

  
◊◊

 

 

  
“My manager has a proposal for you, but I don't think you'll like it,” Chanyeol had said over the phone.  
He was right, Joonmyeon doesn't actually like it, but he is not sure Chanyeol was thinking about this kind of dislike when he had thought of warning him in advance.

“We thought that this could be nice advertisement if you'd be willing to write an OST for Chanyeol's movie and have Back Up Plan back together to sing it.” Chanyeol's manager looks at him with a professional smile and gestures with his hands to emphasize whatever it is that is coming out of his mouth and Joonmyeon isn't sure this man knows what he is exactly asking him.

He wants to say yes. He wants to go back to the studio with his best friends to make music, of course he does, but this right now feels almost like he would be breaking the law if he were to say yes.  
Sitting in the conference room Joonmyeon has his eyes fixed on the contract in front of him. He goes through the two pages trying to find something wrong, anything that will allow him to say no without having to pull his personal life in this.

Chanyeol is looking at him with a tight smile that is more circumstantial than reassuring. Joonmyeon drowns away the manager's flattery and looks at Chanyeol.

“What do you think?” he asks.

“Whatever leader decides will be fine,” Chanyeol says and his smile widens.

Joonmyeon smiles back, patting Chanyeol on the shoulder in a silent thank you.

“You already contacted all the other members?” he asks looking back to the manager.

“No, not yet. We wanted to assure your participation as a producer first,” he answers and his smile is gone, replaced by a determined look.

Joonmyeon takes a deep breath and says something that he'll probably regret. “If the others accept your proposal, count me in.”

Chanyeol's manager looks pleased with himself and Chanyeol pats him on the back gifting him with his wide creepy smile that makes his right eye twitch.

“Hyung,” he says grinning when they are outside the building. “I'm happy you accepted.”

“Yeah, me too,” he says, but he is not sure he means it.

 

 

 

 

The same night he calls Kyungsoo asking if he is home and if he could go over to talk. Kyungsoo obviously says yes, and is waiting for him, half an hour later with a tea and open arms.  
He is not happy when Joonmyeon tells him the news, but it's nothing unexpected. He sighs and wets his lips nervously.

“If you hadn't already accepted you wouldn't be here telling me, and that guilty look on your face is all the confirmation I need,” Kyungsoo seems tired and Joonmyeon feels selfish and unable to let go even when it's clear that Kyungsoo is hurting and it's all because of him.

“I'm-...”

“I know, believe me, I know. You couldn't say no to that.”

Kyungsoo reaches for his hands and Joonmyeon holds them open, taking Kyungsoo's hand between his. Kyungsoo is warm and soft, he smiles like the sun and is there, always there, watching his back, and he trusts Kyungsoo more than he trusts himself.  
Joonmyeon caresses his hands and his mind replays old melodies he wrote thinking of those hands, when he could just hope to hold them like this, like it meant something, like it meant possession.

“You have pianist hands,” Joonmyeon smiles caressing Kyungsoo's short fingers.

Kyungsoo scoffs and smiles, it's barely there, but Joonmyeon sees it anyway, behind worry and sadness, the sun that shines in Kyungsoo's eyes. The sun though disappears as he speaks. “If I had maybe it would be easier to hold you closer.”

Joonmeyon feels his stomach sink.

 

◊◊

 

He wakes with a light headache, his hair damp and feels his legs impossibly tangled with the sheets. He grunts and reaches over the other side of the bed to find it empty and cold. Joonmyeon swears this is the last time he gets this wasted. The curtains are drawn and he takes a deep breath before trying to sit on the edge of the bed. The world spins and his stomach protests. On his nightstand there is a glass of water and a tablet of aspirins, Joonmyeon thanks whoever left them there and pops two in his mouth before drowning the whole glass of water.  
As he drags himself to the bathroom, he swears he didn't feel this old last time he woke after a night out with Chanyeol and Jongin.

The house is strangely silent, no music gently dragging him out of his last moments of sleep. It's Monday, he notes when he opens the bathroom door with his shoulder and almost trips on the green carpet that is not supposed to be there. Monday means Ray Charles, Aretha Franklin and Abba, because Jongdae always needs the right music for the right moment, and Monday is bad enough already so you need something to pull you out of bed.

 

 

He starts the shower and wonders if they have another bottle of shampoo in the cabinet. When he turns towards the mirror, though, his heart sinks.

 

 

 

Dealing with rejection is a bit like dealing with the all the mistakes you ever made and address them as lacking of something on your part. Not being enough was something Joonmyeon had always dealt with. There was always a goal and to reach it he had to be enough. Smart enough, fit enough, good enough. His father called it growing up, the harder you fall the more you learn, and the less you'll hurt next time.

 

_You know right?_

 

 

 

The sharp pain he felt right then dissipated and now it's not just a dull ache that sits somewhere behind his heart read to reach out and squeeze.

 

 

_Joonmyeon-ah._

 

 

  
He knew that it was between the possibilities, but it didn't make it hurt less. Jongdae leaving meant the end, meant Joonmyeon hadn't been enough to weigh him down, and meant he didn't mean enough. Sometimes he toyed with the idea of meaning too much, but he didn't indulge in that thought for long.

Jongdae didn't choose him, Jongdae didn't want him and he had learnt not to want Jongdae, to forget rather than to hate, tucking everything away as far as he could.

 

 

Joonmyeon sits in front of the vertical piano, stretching the fingers over the white keys and not daring to press them.  
He clutches the piece of paper in his hands and wills it to disappear, but it remains right where he is, and the corners dig into his palm to remind him.

“What are you doing?” Kyungsoo is peeking through the open door of the little studio. He looks worried, and Joonmyeon flashes him a smile, the most truthful since long.

“Just thinking about things,” he says and looks back at the keys, caressing the black ones.  
He doesn't hear Kyungsoo approach him, he just sees his fingers slide over the keys and press over a Do Minor. He presses a key after another, with grace, but without purpose, just to fill the silence.

“What are you doing?” Joonmyeon asks, and makes room for Kyungsoo to let him reach the farthest end of the piano. Kyungsoo leans into him and Joonmyeon finds that heath comforting.

“This is surely better than the continuous bubbling that comes out of your head when you overthink,” Kyungsoo states after he is finished.

“Was I really that loud?”

“I was about to throw water at you fearing you might be overheating.”

Joonmyeon chuckles and Kyungsoo looks satisfied.

“So, I was about to go get the sinfulest samgyeopsal you'll ever taste, and I'm willing to share the secret with you, are you up for it?”

Joonmyeon drapes an arm around Kyungsoo and nods. “I'm not one to turn down free food.”

Kyungsoo wriggles his nose and side-eyes Joonmyeon “I said I was willing to share, not that I'm paying.”

Joonmyeon feels daring then, with Kyungsoo's warm body pressed against his side, and Kyungsoo's hand clutching his. He feels comfortable in his skin again, like there is nothing wrong with him. He takes a deep breath and throws away all his worries with a smile. “Well, if I'm paying I'll call this a date.”

Kyungsoo looks at him in mock-shock and puts a hand over his mouth. “I can't believe how shameless success has made you.”

“I'm a fallen rock star, I'm allowed to be smug about that and get the best out of it.”

Joonmyeon laughs and Kyungsoo shoves him lightly, but he is smiling and Joonmyeon is sure that everything will be all right.

 

◊◊

 

  
The first day back in the studio is a foggy Wednesday morning. It's barely eight when Joonmyeon steps in the studio building, with a steaming hot coffee and a weird feeling at the pit of his stomach. It has been a long time since he last stepped in a studio as Suho, as a member of Back Up Plan to make music for his band. He hadn't fully realized how much he had missed that feeling until he steps into the building and sees Minseok standing in front of the elevator.  
Minseok has his hands stuffed in his pockets and he can see two drumsticks stick out of his left back pocket.

“Good morning,” Joonmyeon says once he is beside his drummer and gives a very meaningful look to the others' back pocket.

“Look all you want, but no touching, I'm private property.”

Minseok smirks and the elevator comes right on cue, its doors sliding open to let Minseok walk in coolly and leaving Joonmyeon speechless.

“Since when?” Joonmyeon asks following swiftly.

“Not long, but I'd like to think it's going somewhere.”

Minseok looks happy with his gummy smile and Joonmyeon can see it, it's written with flying colors in his friend's clear eyes. Joonmyeon slings an arm around Minseok's shoulders.

Stepping in the studio they find Jongin sitting on the couch and Chanyeol already planted on the big wheeled-chair in front of the soundboard. Beside the sofa there is the old case of Jongin's guitar, with the scratched edges and the hole at the bottom where Lu Han tried to set a cheeseball on fire. Minseok scoots past Joonmeyon a launches himself on the sofa, half landing on Jongin, who groans and tries to push him off. Chanyeol laughs at Jongin's misery.

“Shouldn't you tell them something, leader?” a voice calls behind him.

Jongdae is standing at the door, smiling. There is something in Jongdae's eyes, though, he looks almost uncomfortable. For a moment Joonmyeon sees Jongdae much younger, sees smudged eyeliner and white lies and something pulls at his chest. Something that should be long forgotten. Buried far far far away.  
How much can a person change in four years? Joonmyeon wonders as Jongdae steps in shrugging off his coat. He quickly discards the thought, though, he doesn't need unnecessary worrying when there are two hours of musical insanity ahead of him.

“So, boys, shall we begin?” he says and Minseok finally sits upright.

Chanyeol claps his hands like a mad seal and wheels over the couch.

“We have little restrictions. It needs to be a love song and it needs to have a soft beat.”

Minseok looks thoughtful, while Jongdae just nods sitting on the armrest. Jongin has a pen and a notebook already scribbling with a serious frown on his forehead.

“Is that a cactus?” Minseok asks leaning over.

“It's a cat,” Jongin says affronted and Joonmeyon sighs.

Jongdae smiles and pats his back, while Chanyeol and Minseok argue about how many legs a cat normally has and Jongin looks like he is about to have a fit. Joonmyeon only feels that hand on his shoulder and his body goes cold and all of a sudden he realizes how much of a bad idea this whole thing is.

 

Given Chanyeol tight schedule and their respective occupations trying to find a moment for them to meet up and get some actual work done is hard. Minseok would bring his work over, articles to revise, interviews to sort out and sit in a corner of the studio always ready to give an opinion, and Jongin would just show up at odd times trying to be as useful as possible in the short time he had between his other activities.  
Jongdae, on the other end drops, by at least once a day and usually with coffee and sits behind the soundboard humming tones and singing some lyrics and mostly just frowning in front of a blank page.  
The air in the studio is oddly calm, apart from the creative chaos that ensues every time the five of them are there.  
Jongdae smiles a lot now, Joonmyeon is not sure if it actually genuine or if it serves only to hide something else. What he is not sure. From the brief talk they had, already three weeks ago, Joonmyeon gathered that Jongdae had done his best to stay away from everything that had to do with music.  
He wonders exactly what Jongdae ran away from.  
Back in the days their main singer seemed to be always in the studio, always sitting in some corner or sprawled on the couch looking at some lyrics or mindlessly trying to come up with some tune.  
Joonmyeon remembers the late night sessions filled with coffee and cigarettes and alcohol and sex under the white lights of the booth. He remembers that one time when Jongdae had been gone for three days between their first and second album just to come back with a bunch of candles and a little notebook filled with words and endless dreams.

“Where have you been?” Joonmyeon asked sitting on the worn out couch of their basement studio, trying not to look as tired as he felt.

“Places,” Jongdae answered, but Joonmyeon knew better.

“And in these places you've been don't have fucking phones so you can call and tell everyone that you are actually alive?” he spit, half covering his face with his hands. “We're not in Chanyeol's garage anymore, Jongdae, you cannot go missing on us… on me like that.”

Jongdae never said anything in return, never one to say sorry, he just stood from where he was sitting on the floor to go sit in Joonmyeon's lap, thigh on either side of Joonmyeon waist.

“Say something,” Joonmyeon pleaded, forehead leaning on Jongdae stomach, but Jongdae remained stubbornly silent.

Jongdae never said anything, Jongdae was never sorry.

  
It's a Friday when Jongin shows up at the studio at ten thirty sporting rather significant eye-bags and a cello suitcase covered with stickers. Joonmyeon eyes him a bit and Jongin just shakes his head dropping the instrument behind the door.

“I just need to sleep a couple hours, hyung.”

Joonmyeon motions for the huge couch, but Jongin curls himself on the purple sofa and sighs in contentment after closing his eyes. Joonmyeon watches him for a while, his breath evening as he shifts into a peaceful sleep. He wonders how much of Jongin's life he actually knows and what remains behind the ever closed doors of Jongin's mind.  
He goes back to the soundboard after refilling his mug with hot tea, and tries to concentrate on the two ink-filled pages he should be turning into possible lyrics.

 

◊◊

 

“Kyungsoo,” Joonmyeon whispers in the darkness of the bedroom, finger tracing Kyungsoo's spine. “Kyunsoo-yah,” he repeats letting his fingers wonder over Kyungsoo exposed ribs, pressing just a bit harder where he knows Kyungsoo is ticklish. He feels him squirm under his touch. He even tries to bat his hand away, Joonmyeon though is faster and sneaks his hand over his abdomen dragging him closer to his chest.  
Kyungsoo doesn't resist, but keeps his eyes stubbornly closed, Joonmyeon chuckles and plants a kiss on his bare shoulder.  
With a swift motion Kyungsoo turns inside his embrace and plants a wet kiss in the middle of his chest. He rests his forehead there, and Joonmyeon smiles tightening his hold on the others' middle.

“Sleep now,” Kyungsoo whispers, playfully biting on Joonmyeon's collarbone.

“Goodnight,” he whispers back.

 

 

 

 

◊◊

 

 

A week and a half later they start to record the track. It's late afternoon and the first up is Minseok. He sits behind the drum set and tries the song once before they start the actual recording.  
Jongin is sitting beside him on the other side of the booth and smiles faintly looking at his hyung playing.

“Hyung, why did we stop?” he asks Joonmyeon between the muffled beats of the drum. “What was stronger than this?”

There was nothing wrong, they just felt like it was time to move on to something else. They talked about it a lot in the days leading to their final decision, screamed at each other, and in the end it had seemed the only possible solution.

“Nothing is stronger than this,” he says resting his elbows on the soundboard. “I think we just wanted to grow out of a role we had kept for so long.”

Jongin furrows his brows tracing one of the million buttons with his finger. “I thought that... there were so many things I wanted to do, but in the end music is the only thing I'm good at,” he laughs then, and the clouds dissipate from his eyes and he is looking at Joonmyeon with a grin.

“I'm glad we are doing this.”

Joonmeyon smiles back, he is glad too. On most days.

On Friday Chanyeol is supposed to drop by at seven to record his part, Joonmyeon had reserved the studio for one hour, but at seven fifteen Chanyeol texts him saying he's sorry, but filming is dragging longer than expected and he won't be able to come to the studio.  
The message ends with two rows of ㅠㅠ .  
No worries, let me know when you are free.  
He is about to pack his things up when the door opens and Jongdae steps in. His cheeks are tinted of a light pink and he looks like he has been running. His hair are dump and few strands stick to his forehead.

“It started raining and I forgot my umbrella” he says pushing his hair back with his hand. “Where is Chanyeol?”

“He couldn’t make it,” he says turning back to the music sheets he had laid out waiting for Chanyeol.

“Oh, I thought I'd drop by to see how it was going, but well... “

Joonmyeon is still not sure where they stand, Jongdae is still a blur of unanswered questions and secrets whispered behind closed doors and he feels that now more than any time since Jongdae came back is a turning point. It's either he decides to throw himself face first in this mess or keep walking and never look back.  
Four years is a long time, and Joonmyeon thought he had spent them moving on, but maybe he had just deluded and all he did was running away.  
He wonders how different he and Jongdae actually are. While Jongdae had chosen physical distance he had preferred to detach himself emotionally, falling back into old patterns.

Joonmyeon asks himself how much of all this Kyungsoo has figured out.

He needs answers.

“Do you have time? We could grab something to eat” he turns to Jongdae, who is smiling still standing on the door.

“Yes, I have time.”

Joonmyeon takes a breath and smiles back.

 

 

 

◊◊

 

 

 

  
Jongdae is sitting on the couch, with his knees to his chest, and looks pensively out of the window.  
He hasn't slept, but he is not tired.  
It's barely five in the morning and the house is still silent.  
There is something about mornings that makes them feel final, as if with every morning something from the day before died, and Jongdae has never been good with letting things go.  
He stands and makes his way to the kitchen.  
The coffee is cold, but he doesn't want to make any noises so he drinks it like that.  
Jongdae gives himself the time of cup of coffee and then he will leave.  
Before leaving though he rummages through the drawers and finds post-its and a pen.

  
_You know, right?_

_Joonmyeon-ah..._

 

  
◊◊

 

 

  
They stop by a Mexican restaurant on the way to Joonmyeon's apartment. It's the weekend so the place is cramped and Joonmyeon is silently glad for the background noise that prevents him from listening too much to the soft humming of his own mind. The waiter leads them towards the middle of the room, to a smaller table near the fireplace.

“I've been here only once, but the food is good.” Joonmyeon says sitting.

Jongdae nods going through the menu. “I don't think I can pronounce half of the words here.”

Joonmyeon smiles and ends up ordering for the both of them.

“So, how are the lyrics coming along?”

Joonmyeon thinks of the stack of possible rhymes and bridges and choruses he has thought of, and smiles sheepishly.

“I'm still looking for something that rhymes with love muffin.“

Jongdae snorts. “I hope you are joking because I'm not singing that.”

The mindless chat goes on for most of the dinner, at least for the first wine bottle. The second melts the rock that had lodged itself in his stomach and has him relax in his chair as Jongdae reminisces about their first attempt at writing lyrics.  
Joonmyeon blames it on the wine-induced daze, when he nudges Jongdae's foot under the table. The table is rather small, and as short as he is it’s not that weird. Jongdae though nudges back, feet climbing up to his left ankle.

 

Joonmyeon pays, because hyung always pays, and Jongdae silently follows him towards his apartment without either of them saying anything about it. While they walk side by side Joonmyeon breaths in the cold wind of mid-November and tries to clear his head.  
He isn't sure if he wants Jongdae back or he is just feeling nostalgic.  
He is not sure of everything and feels a river flow between the two of them, and he is afraid that the moment he tries to cross it he'll drown.  
But then Jongdae's hand brushes his own, maybe on purpose, maybe not, but Joonmyeon doesn't care, because he feels like he has been drowning all along but never realized.

When they step into his apartment Joonmyeon doesn't feel the need to turn on the lights and Jongdae just follows him. Being in his territory should make him feel stronger, instead the noise of Jongdae's steps on his parquet make him feel anxious. There is only so much he can blame on the alcohol.  
He guides Jongdae towards the living room, he can barely make out the outlines of his furniture, but Jongdae seems to feel at ease in the darkness and settles on the puff sofa.

“You kept this?” he asks amused, trying to get comfortable.

Joonmyeon sits on the floor, with his back leaning on the couch. Picking at the carpet he closes his eyes, because he can't face it yet, can't look at it yet, but has to know.  
It's never dark enough when you want to hide from something.

“Why did you leave?” and it's nothing more than a whisper, but Jongdae catches it, has to catch it, because the silent is deafening and it's obvious why they are there.  
He hears him breathe in and out, twice before he speaks.

“I think I was scared.”

As soon as Jongdae's words leave his lips Joonmyeon feels drained. This is exactly what he feared, that nothing had made Jongdae go away.  
He just wasn't enough to keep Jongdae from leaving, that fear was stronger than whatever dysfunctional thing they had.

“For almost twenty years I had worked hard towards only one dream, I had seen it rise and shine like the brightest star.” He takes a breath then and Joonmyeon feels anger begin to creep in his guts, because he knows what Jongdae is talking about, he knows. “And it had fallen, like a shooting star it had lasted so little and I had been doing only one thing for so long that I wasn't sure I could do anything else.”

Joonmyeon isn't sure he has ever heard Jongdae talk about himself for that long.

“I was terrified that I would just... fade.”

He is not sure if he is angry at Jongdae for only thinking about himself, or because he knows exactly what Jongdae is talking about and can't bring himself to keep up the pretense that it has ever only been Jongdae’s fault.  
Probably he has already forgiven, but it shouldn't have been that easy.

“So you took a plane for the other side of the world to go wipe tables god knows where?” his tone is bitter.

“I had the world in my hands and then I had nothing, I needed to know I had some other... I had something else apart from my voice, that I was someone outside of the cage I had built up for myself.”

It’s clear then, when he looks at Jongdae’s wet, vulnerable eyes, that Joonmyeon has been standing outside that cage all this time, even when the paradise bird had already fled.

“We had something that... “

“I wasn't exactly reasonable back then, Joonmyeon. Not everything can be explained with rationality, I was scared and that ticket was my only way out of whatever loop I had thrown myself in.”

Joonmyeon is angry now. At the both of them. Because if Jongdae had explained he would have understood and maybe let Jongdae go with a smile. Maybe he wouldn't have driven Jongdae to the airport, but surely now he wouldn't be fighting against the dizziness of alcohol feeling like his head is about to explode.

“I... “

“We both weren't ready for whatever thing we had. I was too wrapped up in myself to let anyone in and you tried Joonmyeon and I wanted nothing more than to give in, but then you looked at me like I was going to fade away any second. I knew it was true, but... I wish you'd have believed in me more.”

Joonmyeon opens his eyes and Jongdae is looking right at him. His eyes are glassy and he looks drained. He probably doesn't look any better.

“I know it is selfish” Jongdae whispers.

Joonmyeon wonders which one between them is the selfish one, as he slides closer to Jongdae and cups his face with both his hands. He mouths a silent sorry, a breath away from the other lips and then he kisses him, with all the longing he has been suppressing for years, with all the hatred and anger. And everything dissolves right there.  
As they undress each other with shaky hands they both get rid of whatever weight they have been dragging along for years. With every piece of cloth that goes Joonmyeon feels incredibly lighter.  
Jongdae's hands on his skin have him shudder, fingers trace his spine dragging his shirt along while he palms sharp hips and a flat stomach.  
It's frenzy and careless, they need to touch and touch and touch. Need to see as much of the other as they can. They bite, and suck and mark and claim each other. He drinks Jongdae's moans and Jongdae bites harder on his shoulder when he palms him through his boxers.  
He doesn't give himself time to think and concentrates only on the skin of the man in front of him and takes his sweet time tracing his sharp jaw with his lips an down his neck till his collarbones.  
He finds the little scar just under Jongdae's right collarbone. Jongdae's fingers still in his hair as he traces the little black lines engraved in his skin. There are no big flows, it's just two words.  
Love bites.

“When did you get this?” Joonmeyon asks and Jongdae's eyes are filled with an old sadness.

“I forgot.” he says, but he is lying.

 

 

 

  
The morning after he texts Kyungsoo. When the other suggests that they go out for lunch, he replies that they'd better stay home. While Jongdae showers he makes coffee and they both agree that the night before is still too fresh to talk about it. Jongdae leaves after pecking his lips and Joonmeyon's hand on impulse goes to Jongdae's collarbone. His fingers trace the tattoo engraved on the others' skin and Jongdae stays still and lets him.

Kyungsoo opens his door in sweatpants and a t-shirt with an Iron Man stamp on the front, he ushers him towards the kitchen and sits him on one of the chair, before fetching the both of them a mug of tea. Joonmyeon feels like a naughty child about to be reprimanded.

“So, spill it,” Kyungsoo says then and takes a sip of his tea.

Joonmyeon respects Kyungsoo enough to get right to the point, without trying to make it sound better than it actually is. Kyungsoo listens attentively as he talks, his face unreadable. He leans back on his chair and his grip is firm on the handle of the mug. Joonmeyon speaks about feelings, about the past, about things he'd thought forgotten, but were still there, ready to surface. Kyungsoo lets him talk, because Joonmyeon, for once, needs to see for himself what he's been seeing all these years he has spent beside him.  
Joonmyeon and Jongdae have always been alike, it was only what they showed that differed.

“I would like to say I didn't expect this,” he says, and Joonmyeon looks betrayed and guilty. Just like Jongdae. “You two deserve each other.”

He's angry, but his words don't mean harm, he is just stating a fact. He could struggle, he could scream, but he won't, because he knows that will lead to nothing. There is already no room for him.

“I think you should leave now,” he says and stands, waiting for Joonmyeon to follow.

When they are at the door Joonmyeon turns for a moment and Kyungsoo smiles at him, before plating his fist on his jaw, winching right after the collision. They never tell you how much it hurts to punch someone that has hurt you, but that you love nonetheless. It's like punching yourself in the guts and feeling a lot emptier and sadder right after.

Joonmyeon squints his eyes and massages his damaged jaw, but doesn't complain. “Well, I hope that made you feel better.”

Kyungsoo shuts the door.

 

 

 

 

 

  
They record the song in two weeks, and by the time the movie hits the theatres, Joonmyeon has quit his job and opened his own independent production company.  
He wakes one morning and it's suddenly spring and there is Def Leppard coming from his living room.

“Tuesday,” he muses to himself and rolls around planting his face in the pillow. He plans on going back to sleep, but he hears the door open and a smile blossoms on his lips.

“Pour some sugar on me, oh in the name of love...” a voice almost covers Joe Elliot. “Pour some sugar on me, come on fire me up...”

“Jongdae-yah, it's not even...” he tries to argue, but Jongdae is already launching himself on the bed, pushing the covers away and leaving Joonmyeon no choice, but to suffocate him with a pillow. Jongdae struggles and frees himself just in time to sing the last line.

“I'm hot sticky and sweet from my head to my feet... yeah!” and then leans over and steals a kiss.

“Urgh… Morning breath,” Joonmyeon winces.

“Not like you taste like cotton candy,” Jongdae deadpans.

Joonmeyon smiles sheepishly and drags Jongdae out of bed, trying not to mind the fact the Jongdae is only wearing briefs and all the thoughts that that alone evokes in his mind.

“Let's go wash our teeth, like good kids.”

When they are side by side in front of the sink he hands Jongdae his toothbrush and takes his own, proceeding to put toothpaste on both.

“Thanks, gramps” Jongdae says before starting to brush.

“You are welcome, son.”

“I hope this won't be our next sex roleplay, because it's kind of gross,” Jongdae looks mildly disgusting with toothpaste foam coming out of his mouth and spitting as he speaks.

Joonmyeon slaps his ass in retaliation and proceeds to wash his own teeth, looking smugly in the mirror.

Yeah, he is definitely happy.

 

 


End file.
